


Big Spooky Fan, Me

by SharkbaitHooHaHa



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Bad scary stories, Halloween, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 06:29:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21070418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkbaitHooHaHa/pseuds/SharkbaitHooHaHa
Summary: Halloween inspired fics from my tumblr!1. Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis take Warlock Trick or Treating2. Aziraphale and Crowley tell scary stories





	1. Trick or Treat!

Nanny Ashtoreth was an angel. Not just because she gave up one of her precious few nights off to stay with Warlock after his parents got invited to a last-minute party, but also because, on that particular night, she just so happened to literally be dressed like one.

“Alright, now, dear, when they answer the door, what do we say?”

“Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat! If you don’t, I don’t care, I’ll pull down your underwear!” Warlock shouted cheerfully at the top of his lungs.

“Very good! A little troublemaker after my own heart!”

“Do you think people will give me lots of candy, Nanny?” the five-year-old asked excitedly as he bounced back and forth from foot to foot

“Oh, I’m sure they will,” Nanny said as she straightened the crown balanced precariously on Warlock’s small head. “And if not, we’ll simply have to destroy them when you come into your power.”

Of course, it was right then that Brother Francis decided to join them. “Now, now, there’ll be no need for all that. Remember, Master Warlock, you’ll get plenty of sweets so long as you say ‘please’ and 'thank you.’”

Nanny would have scoffed, had she not been utterly distracted the moment she laid eyes on Brother Francis. “Ang- Azir- Brother Francis, what in Go- Sa- _Somebody’s_ name are you wearing?!”

Brother Francis grinned and spun around to show off the full scope of his costume. From the bright red, plastic horns on his head to the cheap toy pitchfork he held in one hand, his cartoonish devil costume was about accurate to the real thing as Count Chocula was to vampires.

“You like it?” he asked.

The scowl on Nanny’s face indicated that she, in fact, did _not_. “That’s horribly offensive!”

“Me?” Francus gestured to the white Marilyn Monroe style dress and sparkly angel wings Nanny Ashtoreth had donned. “What about you?”

Nanny smirked and did a little twirl that made her skirt flare out. “What _about_ me?”

Brother Francis blushed but didn’t get a chance to reply as Warlock mustered up all the drama that only a five-year-old could and threw back his head with a groan. “Can we _gooooo_, already?!” he whined.

“One moment, dear, just let me grab the eggs and toilet paper.” At the appalled look on Brother Francis’ face she laughed, and it was a beautiful, joyful sound. “I’m _kidding_.”

Brother Francis studied her suspiciously before his face softened into a fond smile as she took Warlock’s hand in her own. On a whim, he offered his own arm out for her to take, his heart thudding loudly in his chest as she blinked at him in surprise.

Gently, as though afraid she would break it, she rested her hand in the crook of his elbow and smiled at him in return. “Shall we, then?”

“I didn’t realize they made Antichrist costumes,” he murmured softly in her ear as they set out.

Nanny Ashtoreth self-conciously rubbed her thumb across the many band-aids wrapped around the tips of most of her fingers. “They don’t,” she said proudly. “…Do you suppose it’s a little _too_ on the nose?”

Brother Francis hummed in consideration as he watched Warlock excitedly run up the front steps of the first house to ring the doorbell. “…The hooves are a nice touch.”


	2. A dark and spooky night

It was a dark and spooky night. Aziraphale was doing inventory in his shop when the radio announced that a serial killer had escaped from the local prison and instructed listeners to be careful.

The angel brushed off the warning, and continued about his business. Suddenly, the bell above the door to his shop went off and the door open and closed with a loud _SLAM_!

Aziraphale sighed, set down the books in his hands, and leaned out around the corner of the bookshelf to send the customer away. "We're clo-!" He froze.

_There was no one there._

"Hello?" he called out to the seemingly empty bookshop.

When he heard no reply, he decided it must have been the wind blowing the door open, and he walked over and turned the bolt to securely lock the door.

It was then that he heard the _stomp, stomp, stomp_ of footsteps behind him. Slowly, he turned.

There stood a hooded figure dressed in all black, and he was holding....

"_One of my books_!" Aziraphale said dramatically as he held the flashlight under his face. "And he said in a deep, deep voice 'sir, I would like to buy this book, please' and I couldn't come up with an excuse fast enough, so do you know what I did?" Upon receiving nothing but an unimpressed stare from Crowley, he continued. "_I sold him the book_!"

"...What about the serial killer?" Crowley asked.

"That was a red herring," Aziraphale said proudly.

"Angel, when I suggested we tell each other scary stories, I expected you to come up with something a bit, well... _scarier_!"

"Well, you do one, then!"

"Alright," Crowley snatched the flashlight from Aziraphale and held it under his own face. "In a world without tartan," he began.

Aziraphale gasped in horror.


End file.
